Postcard from 1966

6th February, 1966 My light, I shared your picture with the boys in the bunker and they are mesmerized. Thank you for walking into my life. Your thoughts intoxicate my days. Strangely, I am smitten by your silent ways. I wait for the day when I am beside your tender heart. Until then, do write

your tutor came the next day

  it was the 201st day of 1998 the tutor, on a schedule walked in and crumbled suddenly uncontained “no more classes Sir, no more complains” he encased his notebook close to his skin   how come, what and why multitude of questions outpour, “why oh why”, he asks bewildered, he wears a shocked mask he

petrichor

Feather soft droplets, uncertain and fickle Surprising sounds, glassy sheets of revival Gushing in to announce an awaited arrival Initiating a standing ovation, trickle by trickle   Rooftops lay flat against a tiptoe dance Hummingbirds listen to the symphony, in pleasure Flapping away grief, to euphoria of tingling treasures The wet night sings to the

Localized warnings

When they break in and through piercing into the insides of you insistent voices that break a chatter shadows recede into their own black matter   entertaining Satan in psychedelic colors ultramarine blue alternates with yellow dirty squalor pacing breaths blurring moments together eyeball to eyeball, on a tight tether   hours rip through asphalt

Landmarks

Remembering with fond delight, myself of dark eyes glistening hair transparent skin and a memory that retained Remembering the girl I knew, younger of radio ready voice multitasking glory love, passion and a heart that was naive Remembering careless youth, adrenalinized of the helter skelter permanence obsessed countless existence and a body that was a

Mercy is a poem – ੴ

ੴ ਸਤਿਨਾਮੁ ਕਰਤਾ ਪੁਰਖੁ ਨਿਰਭਉ ਨਿਰਵੈਰੁ ਅਕਾਲ ਮੂਰਤਿ ਅਜੂਨੀ ਸੈਭੰ ਗੁਰਪ੍ਰਸਾਦਿ ॥ ਜਪੁ ॥ ਆਦਿਸਚੁ ਜੁਗਾਦਿਸਚੁ ਹੈਭੀਸਚੁ ਨਾਨਕ ਹੋਸੀਭੀਸਚੁ॥੧॥ Ik Onkar Satnam Karta Purakh Nirbhao Nirvair Akaal Moorat Ajooni Saibhang Gurprasad ॥ Jap ॥ Aadh sach Jugaadh sach Hai bhee sach Nanak hosee bhee sach ॥1॥ Mool Mantra – first composition in the Guru Granth

Masquerade

1)The stars cannot rearrange themselves in the sky and I understand why each twinkling star is our guide to a lost one a missed position, will lose those left behind the spirits ascend to a position, form into an arrangement then twinkle spells into their own milky way staying elegant in diverse company, staying obvious

mystery of narcissus

It is a mystery of selfish beauty physical magic standing alone on a shaking stage sharing the spectrum, yet unable to engage Narcissism meant spell bound,  warrants a restudy   Facing narcissism, vanity in all its hype needs practiced kindness and a collective skill truth deprived though, our ego mirrors the shattered will Naked storytelling, propels narcissistic

12 little rebellions

1.at lunch hour,for once be reckless at work, bring on the new, experience the twerk. 2.take your heart out of it’s hiding safe, break down the walls, let it chafe. 3.not believing is not really the thrill, looking inwards tho’ could bring on some chills. 4.confirmation is a trepidation, a fear, until you decide to push

mortar and pestle

Responding line by line to Mary Oliver’s A dream of trees the bold italic is my response to the original line